


The Dance

by PostSochiFeels



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Suicide, implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 15:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostSochiFeels/pseuds/PostSochiFeels
Summary: An angst-y little one shot...because sometimes I just get in a mood...Based of the song of the same name by Charlottle Martin (which is really quite fabulous, check it out!)





	The Dance

The Dance (Based on the song of the same name by Charlotte Martin)

 

 

_Inside my mouth I can hear all the voices say,_  
_"Do not lean over the ledge"_  
_I shouldn't look down and I shouldn't have found,_  
_That your lips I still taste in my head_

 

He’d been here before, in this exact same spot. She had found him then and had saved him from doing something stupid, perhaps the stupidest thing he had ever done or considered doing. But she wasn’t coming to save him this time. No, not this time. This time, he was alone.

 

He’d never expected his life to turn out quite the way it had. He always knew he would dance – somehow, someway. Dance was his life, his passion, his reason for being, but still…who would have thought? He only went to the competitions to please his parents. They wanted the world to see their boy and his talent. So he went and they had liked him…liked him enough to place him on the podium to show off his skill. To let him win. Then…he met her.

 

He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her…or with anyone. Dancing was his life and he couldn’t spare any passing minutes for anything or anyone that took away from that. But she danced too. She understood the time, the devotion and the passion of the dance. And she was beautiful.

 

Fate partnered them together and they grew closer and closer, until they almost became one. He couldn’t imagine doing anything without her. Couldn’t imagine going through the day and not hearing her joyous laughter or seeing her beautiful face. At one point he had cared about the results and their placements, but he was now just happy to be able to dance with his love. That was all that really mattered.

 

Once the competitions had ended, she accepted his proposal and agreed to live together, forever, with him. They bought a small house and began to teach and share their craft with new generations of people just like them. They were happy, blissful and in love. 

 

_Raising my glass to the head of the class_  
_As she powers out steps one through ten_  
_I think I'll be fine if I'm covered in wine_  
_I still hate you and love you again_

 

After a time, fate struck again but in a much worse way this time. An injury in his right leg left him unable to dance. Or so they said. Of course, he danced anyway. He danced through the pain for some time before he injured himself once more. Now , truly unable to dance, he began drinking. He needed something to ease the pain, to ease the want, to ease the need of the dance. 

 

She could still dance though. He watched her teach her classes, often he would sit off in the corner, with a bottle and a glass. He would settle in and drink and grow more envious and more hateful of her talents. He loved her – at times. He just didn’t know how to live without his lifeblood. Often he thought that she had stolen it from him, drained him and made him powerless. He couldn’t go on.

 

She found him that day, right in this same spot, carefully balancing on the edge of the bridge. She convinced him to come down. She professed her love for him and rained kisses on his face. She told him she was carrying their child. 

_Weary and worn_  
_Little monster is born_  
_Tell me lies and I'll justify them_  
_I'm desperate today and it's making me pay_  
_For that night, for that kiss, for your bed_

 

Over the nine months of her pregnancy, he rediscovered his love for her. He remained sober – for her. It was a struggle. He returned to dance, even if it was only to teach, it brought him some satisfaction. She taught alongside him until the demands of her body became too great.

 

When the fateful day came at last, he lost his second love.

 

The birth was complicated and she had passed away shortly after from a heart attack. They handed him the child but he couldn’t bear to look at it. At this…this thing…that had taken her away from him. 

_Whoever dared to love someone not there_  
_I don't need a balloon and a pin_  
_The name of the game is outrunning the blame_

 

He'd taken the child home, but every time he dare look at it he saw her face. The little monster…little girl...looked just like her. His drinking habit came back in full force. He just needed to forget how his life had become such a wreckage. How he had lost everything he’d ever lived for in just two short years. In time, the child was taken away from him, but he didn’t care. To him, everything was already gone. 

 

_Better stop crying, hello and goodbying_  
_Go on through me, slip on through my hands_  
_You get your time and the other half's mine_  
_It's okay, this love weighs fifty men_

 

There was only one place for him to go. He had lost everything and there was no point in going on anymore. As he stepped up the road to the bridge, he recalled the joy he had felt when he danced. He tried a few light steps and tumbled to the ground, his leg not willing to support the movement. He resumed his path to the middle of the bridge, now a child’s laughter bringing to mind…her. Again. He stopped and reflected on their time together and their love. His heart hurt as he pictured her face and recalled the taste of her mouth on his. Finally he reached the apex of the structure and carefully balanced on the edge. He reached his arms out and vowed not to look down. 

 

_Why (why)_  
_Can't (can't)_  
_You take me in your arms now?_  
_Why can't you take me?_

_Ahh Ahh Amen_  
_Ahh Ahh Amen_  
_Ahh Ahh Amen_  
_Amen_


End file.
